


Der Zauberlehrling (The Sorcerer's Apprentice)

by tmelange



Series: Dämmerung senke sich von oben (Twilight down from Heaven) [2]
Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: AU, Lemon, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-08-30
Updated: 2002-08-30
Packaged: 2017-10-20 21:29:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmelange/pseuds/tmelange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The citrus-y plot-less story of Yohji and Ran and their date with a hot tub in a hotel room on the beach. Prequel, of a sort, to <em>Alles Nahe werde fern (Everything Near Becomes Far).</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Der Zauberlehrling (The Sorcerer's Apprentice)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in August 2002, updated November 2005.
> 
> This story is a prequel lemon to the story _Alles Nahe werde fern._ I suggest you read that story first, though I suppose you don't have to since this PWP can pretty much stand on its own. If you have read _Alles Nahe werde fern_ then you'll realize (hopefully) that _Der Zauberlehrling_ is the detail of Yohji and Ran's first trip to the hotel where Schuldig, at some later date, accosts them.
> 
> The title comes compliments of the Goethe poem by the same name.
> 
> In the ambiguity that is the Weiss timeline, this story takes place after _An Assassin and White Shaman_ 1  & 2 but before the anime.
> 
> This series, if it were complete and in chronological order, would go like this:
> 
> Series: _Dämmerung senke sich von oben (Twilight down from Heaven)_
> 
> Part One: _Dämmerung senke sich von oben (Twilight down from Heaven)_  
>  Part Two: _Der Zauberlehrling (The Sorcerer's Apprentice)_  
>  Part Three: _Alles Nahe werde fern (Everything Near Becomes Far)_  
>  Part Four: _Nachtgesang (Night Song)_  
>  Part Five: _Kennst du mich nicht? (Do you not know me?)_  
>  Part Six: _Gesang der Geister über den Wassern (Song of Spirits over the Waters)_

"Aya, come over here."

Ran Fujimiya ignored him, and Yohji did not insist. This laid-back approach to life was something Ran had come to appreciate about his teammate during the few weeks since he had joined Weiss and the two of them had fallen into this . . . association . . . of madly escalating proportions. Yohji Kudoh was never pushy. He took everything in stride.

It was the murmuring sound of disturbed water that finally inspired Ran to drag his eyes away from a horizon of slowly encroaching twilight over a restless sea and to turn around. Undoubtedly, Yohji had intended exactly such a result. The sneaky blonde assassin was a connoisseur of the indirect when it suited—Ran had learned that about him too. It was just like Yohji not to _say_ anything, but, instead, to bombard his senses with the correct combination of stimuli, knowing he could get Ran to do exactly what he wanted— _what they both wanted_ —without having to be so gauche as to _say_ anything else, without having to make demands, or complain, or even repeat himself.

Stepping into the room from the balcony, his eyes soaked up a scene as artful and decadent as rose petals scattered on black silk. Yohji's arms were spread wide on the ink-black lip of the porcelain Jacuzzi; his head was tilted back, eyes closed, candlelight flickering over damp and perfect features—like a sun-kissed Adonis in repose. The long piano fingers of one hand draped off the edge and played lightly on the surface of the water, making that irresistible murmuring sound that had snagged his attention in the first place. Ran scowled. He felt like a dog responding automatically to the sound of a can opener at dinnertime.

 _But he couldn't seem to help himself._

The cool night air caressed his bare skin, making him shiver. How long had he been standing by the open balcony doors, mesmerized by the sight of his teammate in that tub? Ran wasn't sure, but it was the sound of Yohji's voice that finally broke the spell.

"Aya."

He flinched and responded instinctively. "Don't call me that." _Not here._

Yohji considered him, and then slowly rose up out of the water. Liquid sluiced off his golden skin, dripped on the marble flooring by the tub and pooled there disconsolately, marking the gray carpet with his footprints as he stalked across the room. Naked. Beautiful. Ran stood frozen with his mouth gone completely dry at the sight—of Yohji's broad shoulders, his chiseled expanse of chest, the tight torso, his beautifully long legs and, of course, his jutting erection that seemed to draw the eye like the sight of something marvelous but taboo. Somehow, it was completely different seeing Yohji naked by candlelight in this rented place, completely different from the dim impressions gleaned in the darkness of a bedroom at the Koneko.

 _Escalating. This whole situation had escalated out of control. How had Yohji won his agreement? What had possessed him to come?_

Yohji approached, and Ran took a small step backwards. He was nervous. _Why was he nervous?_ They had done this before. Yohji had touched him before—just not _here,_ in a place they had selected exactly for this purpose. Fingertips reached out and strayed across his bare chest and tickled a nipple, causing Ran to shudder. A hand trailed across his arm, then behind and along the line of his shoulder blades as Yohji circled him like a tiger. Ran held himself still, tried to slow his wildly racing heart, stopped breathing as a strong arm wrapped around him from behind and the entire length of Yohji's wet body pressed against his backside, making his skin instantly clammy and the back of his boxer shorts damp. The hard length of Yohji's erection pushed at the fabric of his shorts and settled snugly between their bodies.

Nibbling on his neck, Yohji's mouth pressed to tender skin. "What should I call you then?" he whispered. His voice was an intimate caress, making Ran's stomach lurch—as always, making him feel like he was in a car with no brakes, and way out of his league.

"Ran," he answered, licking his lips, trying to generate enough moisture in his mouth to form the words. "You should call me Ran."

Yohji leaned in, trailing the tip of a tongue over the seashell of his ear. "I love the way your skin tastes, Ran."

"Hmm."

"And the way you murmur."

"Yohji."

"And the way you say my name."

"Shut up."

"No. I adore you. I want you to know how much."

"I am not a girl. I don't need—"

"—Me to seduce you?" Yohji's tone was throaty, amused. It caused his indignation to swell. He would not be laughed at or made fun of like a silly child. He struggled, trying to move away from a body that had completely attached itself to his backside like a bandage. But Yohji only tightened the circle of his arms and brought a hand down the front of him, across the flat plain of his stomach, and breached the waistband of his shorts. Ran inhaled sharply as fingertips lightly brushed his erection. All at once, the struggle seeped right out of him.

"I don't need you to talk me to death," he finished weakly.

"I don't think you'll die from anything I do to you tonight. At least, I don't think so." Yohji sounded smug, pleased, and it caused Ran to remember that he should be struggling. He used his agility to surprise the complacent blonde, twisting out of his arms. He was across the room by the closet before Yohji could react.

"This is not going to work," he said coldly, glaring at Yohji across the expanse of a king-sized bed.

Yohji stared at him impassively, not responding. The silence was oppressive, and Ran rushed to fill the void with a better explanation.

"This was a bad idea."

 _Still no response._ The flickering candlelight made Yohji's features look grim from a distance, but Ran knew it was only the hesitancy of waiting that made it seem so. He raised his hand, resting it on the handle that would open the closet door, thinking to get dressed, head back to Tokyo and the shop where he would concentrate on his priorities, stop indulging in a madness that had him in a hotel room on a Friday night with a teammate—a teammate! The tentative motion to open the closet door finally elicited a reaction from the statue across the room.

"I don't think so. I never thought so."

Ran jerked the closet door open. "I should go," he said. He yanked his sweater off the hanger, and looked around for his jeans.

"I can't stop you from leaving."

His fingers clenched the fabric of his sweater. He looked around anxiously. Where were his pants?

"But you're here now—I want you to stay. Ran."

The sound of his name stopped him dead, cold. He looked over at Yohji, aghast. _When had he given the man so much power over him?_ Yohji looked calm; he had his arms crossed in front of his chest and was leaning against the wall, unashamed of the fact that he was naked and hard. He only smiled in that lopsided, insouciant way of his.

"There's only death waiting for us in Tokyo," he said softly. _"Stay."_

 _Death._ Ran's heart started pounding. The sound of it was as loud as a rumble of thunder in his head. Yohji was right. There was death behind him. Only death—

Ran bowed his head, dropped his sweater on the floor and walked over to where Yohji was standing. It was the gentle touch of Yohji's fingers on the side of his face that made him raise his head.

"Ran."

And everything picked up again, right where they had left off, as if there had never been any confusion, or doubt, or pause before he had given in.

It was only a very small voice at in the back of his mind that asked:

 _When had he not . . . given in?_

And it was easily ignored.

It was then that Yohji's lips found his, and Ran remembered how he had become so addicted to the man in the first place. Right then that lips like rose petals claimed his own possessively and with a passionate press that demanded entry into his mouth, demanded his entire concentration. Fingers tangled in his hair, a hand polished his backside, sending electric currents up and down his spine, and pulled him closer— _so close_ —he could no longer tell where Yohji's body stopped and his own body began.

When Yohji released him, he felt like he had a fever; his skin chilled drastically in the absence of his touch.

"Hot tub?' Yohji grinned, raising a questioning brow. Ran nodded his head slowly, then hooked his fingers in the waistband of his shorts and let the fabric fall down. He stepped out of them and felt the frenetic thrill of knowing Yohji's eyes were drinking him in.

"Fucking gorgeous. Like a work of art."

Ran shook his head. "Don't."

Yohji's smile widened, and he nodded his head slightly in acquiescence. "Nothing I can say to you will turn you into a girl, Ran, don't worry." Yohji eyed his erection appreciatively. "Definitely not a girl hung like that."

Ran scowled. "Shut up. Don't you ever stop talking?"

Yohji chuckled, a sound that was low and pleasant and reverberated with the comfort of an aggressive purr. "Not usually, and only at the request of beautiful redheads." He extended a hand. "Come on. I promise to be quiet if I can get back in the tub." He paused. "With you this time."

Ran allowed Yohji to shepherd him over to the bath. He sank into the sinful warmth up to his neck and inhaled the relaxing scent of vanilla rising from the oil in the water. From under lowered lashes he watched Yohji do the same. The water was thrilling, decadent. Yohji was right; this was a good idea. The feel of it all left Ran wondering, absently, why he had put up such a fight in the first place.

 _Because his sister was in a coma in a hospital in Tokyo, and she might never, ever, wake up to live her life, to find love, to experience such a decadent pleasure._

The thought was sobering and he frowned, but Yohji was there to pull him out of his thoughts and across the tub, and to settle him between widely spread legs, and to languidly lick the wetness from the curve of his neck, and wrap a hand around his cock, under the water, and to squeeze, and to press his own erection into the base of his spine.

Every touch was leisurely, the passion right below the surface. Ran relaxed back into Yohji's arms, reveled in the way their bodies fit together like a key in a lock, sank into the dual sensation of the hand that was simply holding his sex possessively, and the tongue that licked his neck, his shoulders, lapped and lingered and caused an undulating tickle to tease his senses.

It seemed like hours passed while they stayed just like that, relaxed, lazy, uncomplicated; it wasn't until the water started to cool that the passion again fanned itself into flames.

"Ran," Yohji groaned in between hard suckles at the junction of shoulder and neck.

"Hmm, Yohji." The hand let go of his cock. Ran sighed softly at the loss.

"Turn around."

Ran opened his eyes. That flutter was back in the pit of his stomach, reminding him of what was to come, sending his inner butterflies into a flight of anticipation. He moved, and the water moved with him, an erotic liquid trill against his skin, until he was facing Yohji and settled properly in his lap, sitting up on strong thighs. The position allowed him to look down on the tall blonde—an unusual state of affairs—and Ran found he liked the perspective and the twinkle in lust-darkened eyes of jade complexity as they looked up at him through long, wet eyelashes. Tempting—it was entirely too tempting. Not even a man made out of stone could stop himself from tasting those slightly parted lips.

 _He wasn't made out of stone, contrary to popular belief; he didn't want to resist._

Pressing himself to Yohji's chest, trapping their erections between, he devoured the mouth that was offered to him so sweetly. But he was only in control for a few heartbeats, for the span of time it took Yohji to bring his arms up and to wrap them behind his back. Then Yohji became more aggressive—clearly he had something specific in mind. As their tongues dueled, Yohji placed a hand at the back of his head, tightened the grip around his torso and leaned forward, tilting him backwards, until Yohji was on his knees in the tub and Ran was on his back, almost horizontal, being supported on top of the water by Yohji's arm strength and the legs he had wrapped around his teammate's waist.

"Yohji!" Ran pulled his mouth away in surprise.

It took only a mild exertion accompanied by a grunt to enable Yohji to rise from knees to feet, pulling them both out of the water in a torrent, lifting Ran up and carrying him out of the tub in his arms like a baby grown almost too big to tote around on a hip.

"Don't worry. I got you."

"Put me down, fool—"

"Your wish is my command."

Yohji crossed the room quickly and pressed him down onto smooth cool sheets, soaking them.

"Damn it, Yohji! The bed! Can't we dry off first?"

"No. I want you. Now." He grinned. "Open your legs. Stop being difficult."

"Asshole."

Yohji's grin turned wolfish. "Now you're talking."

"You—"

Yohji shut him up by claiming his mouth again, fiercely. No longer the slow, smooth burn of the time spent lazing in the tub. That feeling had been wholly consumed by an unstoppable need to possess, a raging inferno of unquenchable _want._ The deadly blonde assassin pressed against him, started to play his body like an instrument, or a weapon, as only Yohji seemed to know how to do. Overwhelmed, Ran simply laid there, drowning in a pool of deep intensity as Yohji kissed his body— _everywhere_ —and sucked on the hard nubs of his chest, and licked his Adam's apple, and blew softly on his belly button, and bit the inside of his thigh, and trailed a rough tongue over the bottom of his foot. There wasn't a place on his body that Yohji didn't fully explore, and mark, and make his own.

Not one single place.

Climbing back up from the bottom of the bed, Yohji buried both hands in his hair and captured his mouth again for a kiss that was as deep as it was dizzying. "I want you, Ran," he breathed, moving from lips to ear. "I think I want to keep you. I think I want to make you mine."

Ran closed his eyes as his stomach lurched crazily. Did he want this? He could still halt the madness. _Couldn't he?_ They hadn't done anything irrevocable—not yet. If he got up right now, put on his clothes and left, his life could go back to some semblance of normality. He knew what Yohji wanted from him. After all, this was why they came to this place—to do it, finally, to take the weeks of foreplay to the last extremity, to go all the way. But did he really want to have sex with a teammate, with a guy he barely knew?

Too late. Yohji had already interpreted his silence as tacit agreement and had shimmied down, putting lips and tongue and hand to the hard length of his cock. Ran shuddered convulsively, and all thought of protest drained right out of his head like water through a sieve.

 _"Yohji,"_ he groaned, lifting his hips off the bed and threading the fingers of one hand through the flaxen silk of his teammate's hair. But Yohji wasn't paying any attention to him; he was busy devouring a cock that wept for him, that throbbed for him sweetly.

Soon, the strokes by hand and mouth became more deliberate, longer and more avid, working him from head to stem, coaxing him over the edge. He was too close. It was too much. Ran tried to move away from the mouth that was torturing him with a pleasure too keen, destroying his control. "Stop!" he begged, twisting, his hips jerking off the bed. "That's enough—"

Yohji, looked up briefly, let Ran's cock slide out of that hot mouth and over pursed lips. "Never enough," he said, chuckling. _"Never."_

Sucking—Yohji lowered his head and resumed sucking, making loud, shameless noises that probably alerted the whole hotel to their shameless activities. Knowing his protests would fall on deaf ears, and not really wanting Yohji to stop anyway, Ran threw himself back on the bed and simply arched up, surrendering to the rush of sensations, the tidal wave of lust.

He closed his eyes, shuddering, as he exploded to the sound of the thunder in his head. Lying there, his essence pulled out of himself by the hottest, most talented mouth in the world, Ran finally understood. It came to him with the clarity of a revelation at the apex of his release. Fighting was pointless, fruitless, like trying to stave off old age. There was no defense against pleasure like this. _Absolutely no defense._

Spent, Ran lay panting as Yohji licked up random drops of fluid that had somehow escaped his mouth. He reached out, needing to touch, resting his hand on the back of Yohji's neck. Ran was played out, completely exhausted by his recent flight and spiraling descent. He could go to sleep now. Perhaps this was enough for one night. Perhaps there was no need to go any further.

But he should have known better. Yohji sat up, and Ran realized immediately he wouldn't get out of anything so easily. The hungry look in those green eyes was unappeased, and Ran understood that the night was not over—not at all. It had only just begun.

Yohji got up from the bed quickly, walked over to the luggage stand where his black duffle bag was propped. He fished around inside for a moment and retrieved a tube. Lying on his side, propped up on an elbow, Ran watched his candlelit progress through narrowed eyes. Yohji returned to the side of the bed and sat down on the edge.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Yohji reached out and lightly stroked his stomach. "You sure?"

Ran nodded. He fell back onto the sheets, and Yohji followed, climbing over him. Their lips met, tentatively at first, then with more passion. A hand found its way between their bodies, teasing his half-hard sex, until Yohji broke off their kissing with a groan. Shifting, Yohji coaxed his legs wider with one hand while flipping the cap on the tube with the other.

With fingers and cool lubricant, Yohji worked Ran open, gentling his squirming protests. One finger, two, then three, Ran gripped the sheets, pulling them away from the bed as he felt those digits invade his body and slowly work themselves in and out. Ran tolerated them, though it was terribly uncomfortable, thinking those fingers were a precursor, to prepare him for how it would feel when Yohji attempted to enter him fully, but those fingers in no way prepared him for the impossibility of trying to fit Yohji's thick cock into such a tight place. No. There was no comparison between the fingers and the cock. It was like trying to compare a drop of water to the sea.

When Yohji was satisfied he was stretched sufficiently, the blonde assassin paused, kneeling between his spread legs. Yohji leaned over, kissed him breathless, saying, "God, Ran, I want to be able to look at you when we do this." Yohji cupped his cheek. "Okay?" Ran nodded, not really understanding what his agreement would allow. All he knew was that Yohji wanted something from him, and that simple fact made it impossible for him to say no. But when Yohji gathered his legs up and pushed them high and onto his shoulders, it became crystal clear. And the butterflies—the butterflies—took flight.

Yohji's cock was hard and slick and pressed against his opening, demanding entrance, pushing, until the entrance was breached.

And it hurt. _God, it hurt!_ Ran couldn't stop the small startled sound that escaped past his lips as he breathed hard and fast. Yohji paused with the head of his cock right inside the tight ring of muscle, waiting for him to stop trembling, obviously, but he couldn't stop. _It hurt._

 _"Ran. God, Ran—"_ Yohji pushed in, groaning. _"So good. So fucking tight—"_

Ran felt like he was being ripped apart from the inside. Yohji was too big. _Way too big!_ He didn't fit. He was only halfway inside and no amount of insistent pushing was going to change the fact that he didn't fit—

"It hurts—"

"Shh," Yohji shushed him, soothing the flush on his face with kisses, "it'll get better, Ran. Oh God, Ran. I promise, baby, it'll get better...." Yohji continued to murmur, soft, nonsensical things as he leaned forward, changing the angle, raising Ran's hips higher off the bed.

This was a bad idea, Ran realized in alarm— _a really bad idea._ After all the time they had spent in one bedroom at the Koneko or the other, the messy kissing, the frantic groping, the sticky hand jobs and the mind-bending blow jobs, the dry humping—he had never let things go this far. Never had they actually—

"Yohji, wait—"

Too many sensations—they overwhelmed him. Pleasure. _Pain._ They washed over him like panic and an exquisite urge to escape.

 _"Yohji—"_

He started to struggle, trying to pull his legs down from Yohji's shoulders and twist away from the rigid shaft that was trying to impale him so intimately.

 _"Don't,"_ Yohji groaned in his ear, trembling, pressing him into the mattress. The raw need in his voice stopped Ran's struggles, stilled him like the harpist stills the strings of his instrument.

 _"I won't hurt you,"_ Yohji kissed him, quick butterfly kisses, on his check, his nose, his fluttering eyelids, whispered into the quivering hush, close by his ear, _"and if I do, forgive me."_

 _"God, Ran, forgive me...."_

Yohji started to move again, this time not stopping at the whimpers, the painful shudders; not stopping until he was completely sheathed—completely, deeply. _Inside._

Ran cried out and bit his lip. Drew blood. Yohji kissed him. Kissed him. Lapped at the blood, sucked on his injured lower lip. Panting. Waiting.

 _"Oh God, Ran, are you ready? Say you're ready...."_

Ran nodded, a quick jerk of the head. Slowly, Yohji started to ride him, to move, stroking his insides with that hard unavoidable length. Tearing into him. Angling—until Yohji could tell from his startled gasp that he'd found it, that spot deep within . . .

 _"Yohji!"_

. . . that made Ran pant and moan and rock his hips wantonly.

 _"God . . . Yohji!"_

Yohji increased his rhythm relentlessly. Harder, Yohji pounded into him. Faster. Long, soul-deep strokes, short, quick thrusts, Yohji set a pace that was masterful, symphonic. Ran threw his head back against the pillow. He couldn't breathe. He grabbed a fistful of blonde hair, pulled—

 _"Come on—"_

He was desperate—for what, he wasn't sure. He just knew he needed more, more of every stultifying, indescribable sensation. Ran groaned and locked his gaze on Yohji's sweat-soaked face, the stars of his eyes, using his arms to try to pull the sunshine heat of him closer, further inside. Ran's whole world reduced itself to Yohji, his intrusive, infuriating teammate, who was loving him and making love to him—

 _No!_ In the midst of passion Ran smothered that thought viciously. Fucking. They were fucking. Not making love—not! Making love. _Fucking._

He was _not_ letting Yohji make love to him, even though the sun and the moon and the stars were underneath his skin, pulsing, turning him translucent from the inside out. That was not what was happening. It was not! There was no love involved in this—

Why not?

 _Because his sister was in a coma in a hospital in Tokyo, and she might never, ever, wake up to live her life, to find love, to experience such a perfect bliss._

Oh God— _Yohji_ —what was he doing in this goddamn hotel? He didn't deserve—

 _Yohji—_

What should he do? Could he allow himself this—this other reality? Could this room be his haven, outside, apart from his cold assassin's life, a place of heat and longing where he lived recklessly, without concern for the cost, or the consequences, or the future? Yes. This was the place—this small hotel room on the black sand beach of Kujukurihama—where he could sit at the feet of a blonde, green-eyed master as an apprentice, an acolyte, and learn to be more than just _Aya_ or even _Ran._ Where he could learn to simply _be._

With each deep and shattering thrust, with every breathless invocation— _Yohji_ —it all fell into its proper balance: perfect, pleasing, impossibly simple and elegant. Transcendent. He felt his soul ease into a state of purest peace—as he had never experienced in any other way. Afterwards, breathing erratically, lying at the bottom of a sweaty press of bodies, a glorious entanglement of arms and legs, he was sated. He was serene. He was as miserably happy as he had ever been.

 _Owari_


End file.
